


I'm just...tired

by ManyNamesMember



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Pining, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Minor Character Death, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, breaking and entering and bad decision making, maybe in a second part, more the suggestion of aymeric/wol than any real content, not beta read not edited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26370322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManyNamesMember/pseuds/ManyNamesMember
Summary: Ly'sen was never trained to be the Warrior of Light. He was never really prepared to watch the people he grew to care about die in front of him. He certainly wasn't prepared to feel helpless as it happened. But that's how he felt now...helpless.He’s in Ishgard now, though Ly’sen doesn’t exactly remember coming here.He remembers the gunshot. Remembers the feeling of feathers between his fingers and the wind stinging his face as they flew. He remembers being led into the conclave, and a conversation happening around him, but he doesn’t remember one word that was said.He remembers wanting to sleep.aka. WoL deals with the trauma of losing friends by dissociating himself to Ishgard and seeking out comfort where he knows he'll find it. He may or may not break into Aymeric's house to get it though.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	I'm just...tired

**Author's Note:**

> So I spent like 6 hours writing Aymeric x WoL stuff today...that's a thing that happened. I've never really posted any of my fic before so please just...be gentle if for some reason you're reading this. This is probably the longest, most coherent thing I've ever written and I'm kinda proud of it, but I literally finished this 10 minutes ago, spell checked names and nothing else. If I do anything else, I won't have the nerve to actually post it.
> 
> Some stuff to know about my WoL: 
> 
> His name's Ly'sen Tal and he's technically a Keeper of the Moon Miqo'te. He's from a mixed sun and moon family though, and I have a whole complicated backstory for him involving his family and how he was raised- who know, maybe someday I'll post that too.
> 
> He's also hard of hearing. Specifically he has cookie bite hearing loss, which means he can't hear mid-range noises. So things like whistles, doors, and footsteps he can typically hear, but voices can be a bit dicey for him. He can get individual sounds from most people, but not usually full words or sentences so he relies a lot of lip-reading to help him fill in the blanks. I tried my best to convey this in text, but it's really hard. (Note: I'm not HoH so if I'm portraying this poorly please someone let me know!) 
> 
> Here's a link to a tweet I made that has a pic of him (if you guys want that): https://twitter.com/ManyNamesMember/status/1299407545866612737

Losing Haurchefant had been devastating. Ly’sen had felt it like a knife in his back, and it had left him breathless and heartbroken. It had been the first _real_ death he’d had to face in this nightmare- certainly he’d seen death before, but he’d never truly felt one until Haurchefant laid bleeding out in his arms.

Ly’sen had thought nothing would ever be worse than that. That nothing could top the helplessness he had felt in that moment.

Somehow, losing Gosetsu is worse.

He can hear the castle falling around them. He can feel each crack of the timber in his bones that are screaming for him to run- _get out, run, ESCAPE NOW-_ but the others are rooted in place.

They’re talking to each other, but Ly’sen can’t focus on their words when his whole body is focused on the sound of another wing of this castle crumbling to the ground.

Gosetsu is the only reason they’re alive right now, and if they don’t leave now- _now, now, now! -_ it won’t matter. Gosetsu is a mountain of a man, but even stones can break.

Ly’sen can feel it when the eyes turn to him. He knows that he’s missed any words spoken to him, but he can see the pleading from Hien and Yugiri- _oh no…Yugiri’s crying._ He can see the resignation from Gosetsu.

He knows he’s going to die.

And then, Gosetsu smiles and Ly’sen knows now what it means to really be helpless.

Gosetsu is going to save them.

“We have to go…” The words burn as Ly’sen speaks them, but the panic has gone. A slab of the ceiling falls behind them, crashing through the floor and falling further down, but he can’t feel the fear anymore.

Gosetsu is going to die, but Gosetsu is going to save them.

But not if they keep standing here.

Ly’sen can hear Yugiri’s outrage, her sorrow as she fights to get free of his hold- _damn it, Yugiri we aren’t dying here, we aren’t wasting his life_. He can feel the fight leave Hien as he speaks to the samurai and then turns to help drag Yugiri towards their escape. He can see the massive birds and Cirina waiting to whisk them back to safety.

_CRACK_

He can also hear the gunshot ring out, just as his feet leave the castle floor and he starts falling.

It’s followed by another.

And another.

And another.

Ly’sen can hear them ringing out in his head, and it feels like the gunshot is echoing through his entire body, banging around on his insides and shaking him apart.

He’d thought nothing could be worse than the guilt he’d felt holding Haurchefant as he died.

He was wrong.

-_-

He’s in Ishgard, though Ly’sen doesn’t exactly remember coming here.

He remembers the gunshot. Remembers the feeling of feathers between his fingers and the wind stinging his face as they flew.

He remembers being led into the conclave, and a conversation happening around him, but he doesn’t remember one word that was said.

He remembers wanting to sleep.

The feeling is still there. The utter exhaustion radiating form his bones, is all Ly’sen can really feel at the moment.

House Fortemps stands in front of him, and Ly’sen can’t bring himself to knock. They’d welcome him in, he’s sure of that. They’d probably even let him sleep in the guest quarters again, but they’d want to know why he was there.

Ly’sen’s not sure that he can give them an answer to that question right now. He doesn’t know why he’s here. Doesn’t know why he’s teleported half-way across the world when there are plenty of beds in Doma for him to sleep in.

A child slams into his side, almost sending him sprawling on the pavement.

How long has he been standing here?

“I’m so sorry, ser. I should have been looking, ser. You’re not hurt are you?”

Ly’sen can recognize that the child, an elezen boy probably only 10 or so but already over half Ly’sen’s height, is speaking but he’s having trouble with the words, more so than normal.

He can hear them, can tell that the boy’s voice is still high enough to be in his audible range, but the words don’t have meaning. They’re just noises, and Ly’sen can feel the faint trickle of panic enter his system.

He hasn’t dissociated this severely in a long time.

The boy is watching him, concern twisting into unease as no response comes to his questions. Ly’sen doesn’t want to scare the kid, doesn’t like that he is, but he can’t bring any words to his lips.

The panic grows.

They stand there for a time, staring at each other. Ly’sen’s not sure how long, but eventually the kid bolts and he’s glad.

A shiver wracks through is body, and he begins to register the cold. It’s snowing…he’s not sure when it started or if it’s been snowing the entire time.

_Cold… Sleep…_

His feet drag through the thin layer of snow coating the cobblestones. Where is he going? He’s not sure, but the panic is fading again, giving way to the exhaustion.

He doesn’t want to go to the Forgotten Knight, it’d be too noisy and there’ll be more people to recognize him. And even if he somehow managed to summon up the words to ask for an inn room…the thought of being alone leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Maybe that’s why he went to House Fortemps first. That makes sense.

Feeling is starting to come back to him, so there’s that at least. It must have been snowing for a while, Ly’sen thinks, because his hair feels wet and his tail is uncomfortably cold.

He’s not wearing a jacket…no, Ly’sen’s still dressed for Doma’s weather, he’d never changed before heading to Ishgard.

The thought is sudden, breaking through the numbness and the exhaustion. He should do something about that. He probably could. There’s a cloak in his bag, more for rain than snow, but it’s something.

Dragging his bag around his body in order to dig out the cloak feels like moving through tree sap. His arms are heavy, more heavy than after his most intense training sessions with the monks. Now that he’s thought about it, his legs are heavy too. Walking becomes hard, so Ly’sen stops and puts that effort into pulling out the cloak and wrapping it around himself. It’s not warm and it does nothing to dry his already soaked hair and fur, but it’s something and he did it consciously.

He needs to find somewhere to sleep, before he just collapses on the street and freezes to death.

_Freezing wouldn’t be so bad._

No. No, that was not a thought he was going to entertain. Ly’sen wanted to sleep, and just to sleep.

_I don’t want to die, not when Goset-_

And no, he couldn’t think of that either, or he’d start drowning in the numbness again.

_Focus. Find a spot to sleep._

House Fortemps was out, he’d already made that decision. The Forgotten Knight was out too.

Where else could he go?

Who else would put him up, but not ask any questions?

_Aymeric._

It’s an absurd idea, but Ly’sen’s feet seem to be moving a bit easier with a destination in mind.

_Aymeric has his own problems, leading a nation can’t be easy… I shouldn’t be bothering him with mine…_

The thoughts are flowing easier now, and that’s a relief. Ly’sen can’t imagine that he looks sane right now, a dissociated mess, soaking wet and shivering like mad. How had anyone in Doma let him make it wall the way to Ishgard?

He has the faintest flash of Alphinaud reaching for his arm, wanting to hold him back, but Alisaie had stopped him. She’d whispered something, Ly’sen hadn’t caught it, but Alphinaud had relented.

She’d probably thought he just needed space... that she was helping, and she was mostly right. He had _wanted_ some space, but he had _needed_ someone to watch him. Clearly.

_And now I’m going to make Aymeric do it… I… I don’t want him to see me like this._

Ly’sen freezes at the thought. He doesn’t want to show up on Aymeric’s door step freezing and soaked and just coming out of a dissociative episode. He doesn’t want to see Aymeric light up as he recognizes who’s at his door-because surely Aymeric would at least be thrilled to see him…he’s always thrilled to see Ly’sen- only to watch the smile fade as he realizes that Ly’sen isn’t there for a happy late night chat.

_This is a bad plan._

But Ly’sen doesn’t have another one. He can’t think of a single other place that he’d rather go to. There’s nowhere else in Ishgard that he’d feel comfortable going to. He doesn’t want to go back to Doma. He doesn’t want the other Scions to see him like this. The Scions still need to believe that he can save the world…

No, they can’t see how weak Ly’sen actually is behind all his smug confidence.

So that leaves him here. In middle of Ishgard, freezing and soaked and coming out of a dissociative episode… and twenty yalms from Aymeric’s front door.

Ly’sen feels dread crawling up his throat as he walks the last little stretch to Aymeric’s home. He remembers being led here the first time, months upon months ago, for their little lunch date. That had been fun. Ly’sen wishes that this was going to be fun.

He raises his hand to knock, but stops himself. Aymeric has house staff. They’d be the ones answering the door not Aymeric, and no… No, it was one thing to let a friend see him in this state, another entirely to let a butler who knew him only as the ‘Savior of Ishgard, Warrior of Light’.

But how else was he supposed to get in?

_This was such a bad plan._

Ly’sen takes a step back, running his hands through his hair, only for his fingers to get caught in his braid and make his frustration ten times worse. Throwing his hood back, he yanks the tie loose and sets upon redoing the braid as his eyes scan the problem that is Aymeric’s house in front of him.

Most of the windows have lights on in them; Ly’sen can see the occasional shadow of movement as he watches, but there’s a series of windows on the second floor that seem to be dark. One’s on the corner, easy enough to reach so long as he warms up his fingers. A quick glance around shows that there’s not anyone watching, it’s starting to get late after all and it’s snowing.

This was probably not what Jacke had envisioned when he taught Ly’sen how to cloak his presence in the shadows.

It definitely wasn’t what Oboro had envisioned.

_Twelve above, this was such a stupid ass plan. Why am I still going along with this?_

Ly’sen’s feet are already off the ground. He’s pushed back his doubts and is in the process of doubling down on his current course of action. Could he have tried to call Aymeric on his linkshell and suffered through trying to understand the other man through it. Probably. Could he have just not been a proud idiot and knocked on the damn door. Probably. But no, he’s already twenty feet up the side of a building preparing to pick the lock to a window so that he can break into his friend’s house and sleep off his grief.

_Why? Why am I like this? How am I even going to explain this? ‘Oh hi Aymeric, I was too embarrassed to knock because I’m a dumbass who just dissociated himself half-way across the damn world so I decided breaking and entering was the best course of action. Mind if I sleep here? No? Cool…cool, cool, cool… wanna cuddle?_

_Dumbass._

The lock clicks open.

_Well that was easy. Aymeric and I are going to have to have a talk about his security measures…_

Thoughts on security aside, Ly’sen could already feel the warm air leaking out of the crack in the window and god did he want that. He had to duck back down, and hold onto the window ledge with one hand so that he could swing the window out and open, but it was all worth it once he’d slipped inside and shut the glass once more.

The curtains had masked that the room wasn’t completely dark. There’s a fire smoldering in the fireplace, and instantly Ly’sen is slinking over to it. His cloak is easily abandoned, as are his boots as he spreads himself out before the small flames and stretches. He could sleep right here, on the stone floor in front of this fireplace.

_This was a great plan._

Ly’sen’s balling up his cloak for a pillow when he notices the bed. It surprises him enough to actually look around the rest of the room, he's almost already forgotten that he's just broken into Aymeric's _house_. It’s a larger room than he thought, all three of the dark windows that he saw from outside are in this room. There’s the large bed centered under one of the windows. A desk against the far wall is covered in papers and flanked by a couple of bookshelves that are almost overflowing. Now that he’s not focused on the fire, he notices the couch and coffee table behind him.

_Oh…that’s a better option than the floor… I’ll just lay down here until… until Aymeric gets home…_

Ly’sen’s already on the couch curled into a ball with his cloak as a blanket before drifting to sleep before he can think better of it.

-_-

It’s late.

Aymeric can feel his eyes struggling to stay open as he reads through another report. He longs for the days when he was just the Lord Commander…at least soldiers didn’t squabble like bureaucrats.

The words are all starting to blend together and his stomach has been growling for the past hour, so with a sigh Aymeric sets down his pen and resigns himself to having to reread this proposal tomorrow. Truthfully, he’s not sure he even remembers what it was about. It’s long past time when he should have gone home.

_Hopefully Willmont will have kept something warm for me_ , he thinks as he pushes himself out of his chair and stretches for the first time in hours. A series of pops later, and he’s at least a hair more awake.

The walk back home was blissfully uneventful, though he is surprised to know that it’s been snowing. The sky had been clear when he’d locked himself in his office earlier in the day. His hands come up to rub at his face, he needed to take more frequent breaks.

Willmont greets him as he steps through the door, alongside the pleasant smell of wood smoke.

“I see I’m not the only one who’s been surprised by the turn in the weather then?”

“Ah, no my lord. The chill came about rather suddenly. Ms. Melliene quite regrets having chosen today to thoroughly dust and air out all of the rooms. All of the warm air had fled by the time we realized that the weather was turning.”

Oh, dear. The poor old housekeeper would likely apologize profusely come morning, thinking she had caused some great inconvenience. Such a sweet woman.

“I see, well no harm done. It’s always nice to come home to a fire. You wouldn’t happen to have left me an supper, perhaps?”

“Of course, my lord. I was starting to fear I would have to let it go cold.”

“Yes, apologies. A proposal from the House of Commons left me contemplating my life’s achievements and if they were worth it.”

The dry comment wrestles a chuckle out of the butler at least.

“I know it’s late, Willmont. I can see to dinner myself, you may retire for the night.”

“Very well, my lord. I bid you good night.”

Aymeric smiles and waves the man off, turning himself towards the kitchens to fetch his meal. He hardly cares what the meal is, only that it’s warm and filling as he eats standing over the counter and lamenting the weight of his responsibilities. Tomorrow held much of the same as today and yesterday, and the day before.

Oh what Aymeric wouldn’t do for something to break the monotony of it all. He almost missed the war with the dragons. As horrible as it was, at least each day was different.

Shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, Aymeric sighs and places his dishes in the sink to be dealt with later. It’s best that he gets to bed now, the morning is not going to come any slower, even if he wills it to.

The sound of his armor grates on Aymeric’s nerves as he climbs the stairs, so he starts peeling himself out of it before he even gets to his private chambers. It does make opening the door a bit more of a challenge, but he manages to juggle his mantle and pauldrons and get it open. He has every intention of simply dumping the lot of it on the small couch in front of his fireplace rather than properly putting it away- he’ll get to bed that much quicker- but as he goes to empty his arms, he stops.

His couch isn’t empty.

_Why is Ly’sen asleep on his couch?_

_In’t Ly’sen supposed to be in Doma? Or was it Ala Mhigo?_

_Why hadn’t Willmont told him that they had a guest?_

_Why hadn’t Willmont shown Ly’sen to a guest room?_

There are too many questions. Aymeric can’t find a single reasonable explanation for why the Warrior of Light would be passed out on his couch, in his private chambers, with no warning.

What’s more, he hasn’t woken up.

Aymeric knows that Ly’sen’s hearing isn’t the best, but he also knows that it was more selective than it was absent. While his friend had trouble with voices, the sound of a door usually grabbed Ly’sen’s attention, much less the sound of shuffling armor.

No, something was wrong if Ly’sen hadn’t woken up now that Aymeric was in the room. Moving quickly, but quietly, Aymeric set the bits of his armor that he’s stripped out of onto his bed before returning to the couch.

Nothing looked outwardly wrong with Ly’sen. He’s curled on his side, tucked into a ball facing the back of the couch leaving his own back to be warmed by the fire. A cloak lies in a pile on the floor beside him, one corner still stubbornly tangled by his feet. Looking around, Aymeric catches sight of Ly’sen’s chakram propped up against his boots by the fire, the sprig of flowers that he wears in his hair laid carefully beside them.

Aymeric glances back to the miqo’te. His hair’s down. Aymeric’s never seen Ly’sen with his hair down. It’s tangled, having apparently fought free of the braid, but Aymeric can’t help but think that it’s nice.

There have been many times that Aymeric has thought that the Warrior of Light was unfairly handsome, but there’s something different about seeing him asleep, confident enough in his safety to discard his weapons and turn his back to the rest of the room that takes Aymeric’s breath away.

A part of him longed to let Ly’sen sleep, but his concern is too great. Besides, his friend deserves to at least sleep in a proper bed regardless of anything else.

-_-

“-en? L-en…k- -p…”

Ly’sen’s ears twitch. His back is warm, it feels nice.

There’s a pressure on his arm, gentle but firm as it shakes him lightly. There’s sound too…someone’s talking.

He should probably wake up so that he can see what they want, but he’s so comfortable. So warm.

Wait…wake up?

_Oh shit, I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep yet!_

Ly’sen bolts up right. Something falls over beside him, he can hear the small thump, but Ly’sen’s too busy swatting his hair out of his face to look immediately.

“-d, -oo.. -k?”

Someone’s still talking… that was a question, Ly’sen’s pretty sure. A moment more and at least his hair’s out of his face. It probably looks like a mess, but it’ll do.

Aymeric’s beside him, in the process of standing back up.

_Oh god, I fell asleep and then scared him when I woke up. This was a terrible awful plan, Ly’sen you dumbass._

He can see Aymeric’s face now at least.

“Sorry…sorry…I didn’t mean to fall asleep. You said something? I didn’t get it, but you asked something.”

And there’s the smile. Ly’sen can feel his heart squeeze, just a bit. He would die for that smile…or by it maybe. He feels like dying of embarrassment right now as it were.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I was just asking if you were okay? I wasn’t expecting to find you here? Did Willmont not offer you a room when I failed to show up at a reasonable hour?”

_Don’t tell him you broke in through the window._

“Oh… um... no… He… I didn’t… see… him?”

_Oh god, I should have just told him I broke in through the window._

The confusion is clear as it spreads across Aymeric’s face.

“You didn’t see him? Did he not answer the door?”

_My life has clearly been a series of mistakes leading up to this one mortifying encounter. It’s all so clear now._

He should just go back to sleep. This is not a good conversation, he’s not sure how he expected this to go, but this is so much worse than anything he could have thought of. Ly’sen wishes he was still dissociated, then he wouldn’t have to feel the embarrassment. A small part of him is just glad that his skin is so dark you can’t tell when he’s blushing.

“Yeah, um, no. I mean… to be fair to him I didn’t knock so he wouldn’t have know to answer the door. But that just sounds like I walked into your house uninvited… which I guess I did… but I didn’t even go through the door… which is so much worse…

“I need to stop talking now and go before I shove my foot further in my mouth. Thanks for the couch Aymeric, I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Ly’sen’s up and half-way through getting his boots on-goddamn these things why do they have to be so tall!- by the time he stops talking. He’s scared to look at Aymeric, who’s probably confused and irritated and disappointed. He just needs to leave. He’ll jump back out the window he came in, that’ll be the quickest way out of this. He’s calm enough now, he can go get a room at the Knight.

“-ate… ‘n … … … g’-ng?”

He’s not getting away from this is he?

Aymeric has a grip on his arm, holding him back from walking to the window and jumping out.

“-k -t m’.”

No…Ly’sen’s not getting out of this conversation. Not without fighting Aymeric, and he really doesn’t want to fight Aymeric, he was to good a man to fight over something stupid like this.

Aymeric has circled around in front of him now, even hunching over to try and get into Ly’sen’s line of sight. There’s a moment where Ly’sen regrets having explained his hearing impairment to the man, but then all he can feel is gratitude and exasperation. Not many people make an effort to ensure that Ly’sen can understand them.

And here Ly’sen is actively trying to use his lack of hearing to his benefit. How rude of him.

“Okay fine…you win.”

He flicks his glance up from the floor and can’t stop the tired sigh that comes with is defeat.

Aymeric looks surprised for a moment. Clearly he hadn’t expected Ly’sen to relent as quickly as he did, but it doesn’t make him pause for long.

“What’s going on Ly’sen?”

Right to the core of it then. Leave it to Aymeric to cut the bullshit right when it’s not wanted.

Ly’sen’s shoulders drag down. He’s still tired.

-_-

“Today…today was a bad day…”

The concern flashes back across Aymeric’s face, but Ly’sen isn’t looking. He’s walking back across the room to sit back on the couch. He curses at his boots again as he leans over to begin wrestling them back off.

_He really was planning on jumping out the window, wasn’t he?_

“Hm…”

Ly’sen isn’t looking back up, focusing on his boots and the fire, but it feels more like he’s collecting himself than avoided Aymeric now, so he decides to give the other man a moment. Aymeric turns his back and starts stripping out of the rest of him armor figuring that by the time it’s all off and he's left much more comfortable in his tunic and pants that Ly’sen will be ready to talk.

He jumps a bit when he turns back around and sees Ly’sen watching him.

“You’re smaller, than you look. I never noticed that your armor makes you look bigger.”

“Is…is that a bad thing?

“No, just an unexpected thing.”

Aymeric just shakes his head and huffs out a small laugh. Ly’sen has always been odd at times… nothing has changed there.

“So…bad day?”

That thought is…worrying. Especially considering what the Warrior of Light has been up to as of late. A bad day for him could mean that the resistances of two separate nations were wiped out completely, or it could mean he broke the favorite vase of a foreign diplomat and got scolded by the Scions.

“Mmm…Go-…Goset-…”

Whatever Ly’sen is trying to say, it is clearly weighing on him heavily. He’s curled into a ball again, half facing Aymeric and half facing the fire. He looks…small.

It’s never really occurred to Aymeric, just how small Ly’sen is, hardly bigger than an elezen teenager. He commands such a presence normally; it was easy to forget what Ly’sen really was. A young miqo’te thrust into a position of power by some force he didn’t even understand.

Aymeric had at least been raised to have the weight of a nation on his shoulders, Ly’sen had the just woken up one day to find the weight of the world on his.

“Take your time, I’ve no where to be.”

“I feel like I did after Haurchefant… Only… somehow worse. I didn’t really think I’d ever feel worse than that.”

They’d lost someone then. That’s unfortunate, but better than a number of scenarios.

“Loosing people is never easy, but for you to come all the way here? I don’t mean to make light of what you’re feeling…but I feel like there’s more to your arrival than just grief.”

“You’re probably right… but to be honest I’m not really sure why I’m here. I, uh, I might have taken it _really, really_ badly. Badly enough to maybe… not remember how I got here?”

Well…that is significantly worse. Aymeric remembers the time after Haurchefant’s death. Ly’sen had been inconsolable once the rest of them had been deemed safe. He fears who’s passing could illicit a worse reaction. One of the twins? Another Scion?

“What happened, Ly’sen?”

It takes a while to get the whole story; Ly’sen has to stop every few minutes to collect himself. Sometimes it’s to keep from crying, others it seems like he’s shaking himself out of a fog. And still there are other times when the fog seems to take hold, and it’s up to Aymeric to gently nudge Ly’sen back into the present.

When it’s all over, Aymeric’s heart aches. He might not have met this Gosetsu, but for his loss to have affected Ly’sen so…He must have been a great man.

“There was nothing I could do… absolutely nothing. I thought I had felt helpless with Haurchefant…but looking back, there was so much that could have saved him. I could have used en Avant. I could have done a waltz… Alphinaud could have regened some mana to heal with… There were so many ways for Haurchefant to live, but there was _nothing_ that could have helped Gosetsu… Nothing…

“I guess it got to be to much. I kind of… ended up dissociating all the way here?”

“Ly’sen! That’s dangerous! What if something had happened to you? Did no one try to stop you?”

The thought of moving around, not knowing where he was going or where he’s already been, it’s terrifying.

“I think Alphinaud did, but I didn’t exactly tell anyone where I was going… I just… went.”

“And you ended up half way across the world… that’s not exactly a healthy way to deal with your grief Ly’se-“

-_-

“You think I don’t know that!”

Ly’sen’s explosion is sudden, but short lived. He’s not mad at Aymeric, he’s really not. He’s just tired. Always so tired.

He doesn’t know how to explain to Aymeric how terrifying it is wake back up after dissociating like this. It never used to be this bad, before all of this Warrior of Light business it had just been the occasional panic attack. Sometimes feeling oddly cold and detached when he felt overwhelmed and needed to get through a situation.

He didn’t used to loose time.

He’s never lost _this much_ time before.

Ly’sen doesn’t want to talk anymore, he wants to go back to sleep.

_I want to go home._

The thought blindsides him, and the longing leaves him breathless as it slams through him. He hasn’t thought about going home in years, not since he was first saddled with the responsibilities of the Warrior of Light, but that’s what he wants.

He wants to go home, wants to curl up with his siblings and his parents like when he was a kit and didn’t have the world looking at him for hope.

The purring surprises him. Purring in and of itself was hardly rare for him. He did it a lot compared to some other miqo’te. He’s purred at dinner with the Scions. He’s purred while camping with Turmeric in the middle of Sylph territory. He’d purred on his date with Aymeric even. Those had all been happy purrs though, ones where he was content and pleased and wanted other people to know how he was feeling.

Now though…now he wants his family, he wants the comfort that comes with them being there.

“I shouldn’t be here. This was a bad idea…you have your own troubles.”

Ly’sen doesn’t want to be here anymore. He feels hollowed out, like he spilled all of his insides out while he was explaining the situation to Aymeric and now there was nothing but longing. He’s still purring, it’s rattling around deep in his chest trying to fill up the void. He should get up, but he can’t. His limbs have locked up so he’s stuck here on Aymeric’s couch, huddled in a ball and purring in a pitiful attempt to comfort himself.

So much for being the hero that saved Ishgard.

Aymeric probably thinks he looks ridiculous.

He definitely looks weak.

Ly’sen fully expects Aymeric to leave…or ask him to leave- _it’s Aymeric’s house, I should be the one to leave shouldn’t I_ \- but he doesn’t. Ly’sen can still feel his presence beside him on the couch, even if he’s buried his face so far into his knees that he can’t see him.

Aymeric hasn’t said anything since Ly’sen snapped at him. He must be waiting for Ly’sen to look back up, but that’s…that’s not going to happen. He’s crying now, and Ly’sen will not -absolutely will not- let Aymeric see that. But Aymeric probably already knows. Ly’sen’s shoulders are shaking and he’s purring even louder now.

He’s expecting Aymeric to kick him out, in the nicest way anyone has even been kicked out of a place. He’s not expecting Aymeric to hug him. Ly’sen’s always found elezen to be a bit finicky about touch. Most of them shy away from it, and seem shocked when he offers it up so freely. It took over a year before Alphinaud became comfortable enough around him for casual hugs to not have him tensing up.

Aymeric, he thought, was one of those low contact elezen. Yet, here he is, arm slung around Ly’sen’s shoulders pulling him in to press against his side.

_He’s tense though…_

Aymeric is not a touchy person, he’s sure of it now. Ly’sen’s not really sure if Aymeric’s ever hugged anyone in his life--which is so sad in it’s own right. He knows that Aymeric shows his affections through words, but Aymeric knows that Ly’sen’s mostly deaf and that while his head is tucked in his knees that Aymeric’s words won’t help. And he knows that Ly’sen _is_ a touchy person.

_If I wasn’t a mess of a miqo’te, I’d kiss him._

Aymeric’s stiff, but he’s also warm and solid and _here._

And honestly, that’s all he really needs right now.

-_-

Aymeric’s not sure how long they sit like this, with Ly’sen crying into his chest and him awkwardly hugging the miqo’te close. He can’t image that it’s a comfortable position, but Ly’sen had uncurled from his ball and plastered himself against Aymeric’s side clinging rather tightly before he’d cried himself back to sleep.

Now his arms are full of a sleeping miqo’te, who’s likely processing more trauma than most sane men, and he’s not sure what to do.

Waking Ly’sen up is out of the question. He needs rest. That much is clear. He probably needs time away from the front, if Aymeric’s being honest with himself. It’s unlikely that he’ll get it though. Ly’sen plays too much of a pivotal role in all of this.

There’s nothing Aymeric can do about that, but he can ensure that Ly’sen gets at least some rest.

He’ll just have to carry him to the guest quarters. Yes, that would work.

It takes a bit of effort, to adjust Ly’sen into a position where Aymeric can carry him, without waking him up, but he manages without too much jostling. The problems come when they get to the guest room and Ly’sen won’t release his grip.

_Well… this is problematic…_

Aymeric tries everything he can think of to gently pry Ly’sen’s hands off of him, but every time he makes any progress Ly’sen’s face will scrunch up and the purring will start again. Each attempt has him petting Ly’sen’s hair and whispering reassurances to him before his face smooths out once more and he falls quiet in his sleep.

_This isn’t going to work, is it?_

He’s captured, held prisoner by a sleeping miqo’te. A large part of him thinks there are worse fates while a small part starts to panic about the idea of sleeping next to Ly’sen.

That small part quickly gets smothered by his own exhaustion, making itself known once more now that Ly’sen’s been seen to.

Embarrassment is something for future-Aymeric to deal with, he decides as he picks Ly’sen up once more and carries him back to his personal quarters. He’ll at least be sleeping in his own bed, and hopefully this faux-pas won’t shatter their relationship.

He wants to say that it’s uncomfortable, laying down to sleep with Ly’sen pressed into him, but he’s never been one to lie.

It’s the best sleep he’s had in ages.


End file.
